"And what would humans be without love?"
RARE, said Death.

― Terry Pratchett, Sourcery

30. I See Dead People

Fine, white mist swirled before Nellas' eyes. Lying on her back in the boat, she regarded it calmly. Over there it looked almost like a leaf, and further away the fluffy fleece of a sheep. Was it like this to be inside a cloud? If she had been a bird, she would have loved to fly up there and check.

She pictured herself as an eagle, floating on straight wings in a spiral. Up, and up, and up she went.

A face blotted out her view of the cloud. Túrin! No. Boromir, she corrected herself. They looked so much alike it was sometimes hard to remember the first version had died.

Boromir's eyes looked like clouds too. Beautiful, gray rain clouds. She smiled at them.

He put his cool hand on her cheek, and his forehead furrowed. Then he uttered a very bad word.

She frowned slightly too, for now she felt the dull ache and stench from her wound, which mingled with the smell of rotten eggs from the foul water surrounding their vessel. She had managed to forget it until he reminded her.

Muttering under his breath about fog, lack of landmarks and Valarforsaken swamps, Boromir returned to his paddle. Nellas watched him for a while, trying to focus on how handsome he was and how happy she was that she had managed to save his life, but it was difficult when he scowled like that. Why must he be so angry and worried all the time? A bad mood would not help one bit.

She wished he could be chatty and smiling again, like when they first set out, back when their journey seemed easy and short. It had been sunshine, and as they paddled across the lake it reflected prettily on the surface. They had landed at the other side, and Boromir picked up the boat and said they would continue down a stair beside the big waterfall. Despite the discomfort she felt from her wound when walking, she had enjoyed that part immensely. It had been such a lovely forest there, with very polite oaks and a few proud old beeches, and she had also liked watching Boromir carry the boat on his wide, muscular shoulders while she listened to his tales of his home, the people there and all the adventures of his youth.

At the bottom of the stairs they came to Nindalf, a fen where many narrow channels were separated by tiny islands covered in grass, and sometimes short, crooked pine trees. Boromir had put the boat in one and said not to worry, because the marshland was connected to the river which would take them to his home in no time. All he had to do was paddle west.

That was before the mist arrived, of course, and before they discovered that the small islands seemed to have a life of their own. If they stopped for the night in an open channel, they would wake up in the morning to find it had suddenly become a dead end. With each passing day, Boromir's mood got darker and Nellas' wound more painful. The fens were a maze, and it had caught them in it.

Well. Thinking about how bad a situation was would not make it better.

Nellas returned to her dreams. That part of the mist reminded her of the waterfall they had passed before. What was it like to ride a boat down one? Probably very fun – until you hit the bottom. Perhaps she could try sometime? But it would have to be after she died and came to Valinor. She had not much time left in Middle-earth, unless Boromir somehow found his way out and took her to a healer.

Oh! Over there, the mist looked like a lake with tiny, white pebbles at the bottom. She regarded the pebbles, and before her eyes they got sharper and clearer. Their pattern was familiar.

Were those stars?

Yes. The mist was clearing for the first time.

"Finally!" Boromir's face lit up. "When this soup is gone, I shall be able to get our bearings at last. Unless we have traveled in circles, we should be close to Minas Tirith after so many days."

Wincing, she tried to sit. She wanted to catch the first glimpse of their destination; not because she cared much about cities, but she was curious about it after all the stories he had told.

The dense fog dissolved but hazy threads remained, curling and billowing around them like long fingers. A weak light glowed in the distance and winked out, only to be replaced by two closer ones.

Boromir drew in his breath sharply. "The lights," he hissed. "The lights of the dead!"

Nellas looked into the black water, and met the glassy eyes in one of the faces she saw there. She recognized that elf; he had left Lothlórien to go to war, and like most of those who did he had never returned.

"Hello. So this is where you went." She cocked her head to hear the reply, but his white lips were still and silent.

Boromir followed her gaze and froze, his paddle still mid-air. "The Valar have mercy on us!" His voice sounded like it belonged to someone else; shrill and strangled. "We have drifted into the Dead Marshes!"

ʕll o _ O llʔ   q( ಠ _ ಠ )p

Dazed, Legolas stared at the disappearing rider and his two small passengers. I love you, Legolas. I love you with all my heart. Kat's words were going on repeat in his mind.

She had startled him with her confession, and he had not managed to think of a reply before she was gone. Not even a 'thank you' – though, she probably would not have appreciated such an answer anyway.

How long had her feelings been that strong? He had obviously known that she was attracted to him, and had been so from the beginning – he was used to that; he often provoked such emotions, particularly in humans. When they realized he was not interested, it passed. But not for her, apparently, and instead she had committed her heart. Why? How could she have done so, when he had made it so clear that love and marriage was not for him?

But maybe it was true what they said about mortals. He had heard they could fall out of love with a person and turn their feelings to someone else. That their hearts worked differently.

Still, it felt strange to know that someone loved him, even if it was only a human. He had to admit he was quite flattered; who wouldn't be? But also uncomfortable. How could he ever look her in the face again? He almost wished she hadn't told him.

I love you, Legolas.

In retrospect, he probably shouldn't have encouraged her. He recalled the many occasions when he had felt her eyes on him, and instead of ignoring it or asking her to stop, he had teased her about it. Like that silly stunt yesterday.

He suppressed a smile. Okay, that had definitely been worth it; her reaction when he took off his shirt had been priceless. Had she liked what she saw? If so, it was only fair she should have a disturbing image haunting her like he did.

Brought forth by his thoughts, said image appeared: a naked woman, ample and feminine. After finishing her quest she might get that body back. It struck him that if he married her, he could see it again – not just as a reflection, but in a real, solid form. See and touch. He had stayed single so he could have an adventurous life, and now he was living through that adventure – but maybe after it was over, he could afford to settle down?

No. No! He was just looking for an excuse to take her to his bed. He was not the marrying kind! Quickly vanishing the vision, he willed his heart to beat slower and his blood leave places where it had no business being.

Recently, he was behaving like a stag in the mating season, or like the poor tomcat. It was so not him. He rarely got himself involved with others; obviously not romantically, but not platonically either, and yet here on this journey he had formed two close friendships. He had begun to care, and once you started caring, pain and heartbreak would follow suit; it was only a matter of time. Longer in Gimli's case, for dwarves were long-lived, but with Kat a relationship – whether friendship or more – could only last for the briefest of blinks in the life of an elf.

Though, he had to admit, time was acting differently lately. Since he left home, it had been so full. Full of events, full of people, full of emotions. He had started to feel the hours and even minutes pass in a way he could not recall having ever done before. As if he had lived his whole life over in just these past months.

Was it always like this for humans? If so, it wasn't strange they did everything so speedily. They grew up, got married, produced children and became old before an elf at that age had even reached his full height.

Suddenly he envied them. Their lives seemed so interesting. He recalled the stories Kat had told him, both about other humans and her own life before she came to Middle-earth. She had done so much that it almost felt like she was the older of them. She was certainly the more experienced. And though she had only a few more decades left to live, she would move on to even more exciting adventures in her afterlife.

For him it would be just like before when this quest was over. Time would resume its merciless speed, and the centuries would blend together in an endless repeat of the seasons. Even if he died on this shore it would be the same, for he was fairly certain life as a reborn elf in Valinor was not much different from life here in Middle-earth.

It was quite unfair, really.

ʕll ಠ _ ಠ llʔ

It was time to continue, and with an effort Legolas forced his gaze away from the white dot in the distance that was Shadowfax. It was no use mulling over the situation with Kat. He had his own quest to focus on; to ride with Aragorn, wherever he was heading, and help him as much as possible.

Soon the company set out again, riding at a canter along the Deeping-stream. They had not come far, however, when one of the scouts told them they were followed by a group of horsemen.

Preparing for the worst, Legolas quickly jumped off Arod to string his bow and nock an arrow. Aragorn went to stand by the king, sword in hand, and nearby Gimli hefted his axe impatiently. Most of the riders remained in their saddles, but they lowered their long spears against the approaching threat.

Was this another trick of Saruman's? Legolas pushed down a surge of embarrassment over how easily he had let the wizard dupe him. Thank the Valar only Kat knew.

He heard hoofbeats now, and not long after he spotted the pursuers. In the dim moonlight they were mere shapes and shadows, but something about the way they rode made him think they weren't orcs. That was no guarantee though, for at Helm's Deep there had been human enemies as well.

"Halt! Halt! Who rides in Rohan?" yelled Éomer sternly.

"Rohan? Rohan, did you say?" replied a rough human voice. Its owner sounded relieved, and said he had come a long way to find that land.

Éomer assured him this was indeed Rohan, but nobody was allowed to ride here without leave. Who was he, and what was his errand?

The man introduced himself as Halbarad Dúnadan, a ranger of the north. "We seek one Aragorn son of Arathorn."

"And you have found him!" Aragorn's face broke out in a huge grin as he ran over to the man. "Halbarad! Of all joys this is the least expected!" They met in a rough embrace, which looked a bit like they were trying to beat each other's backs as hard as possible, but Legolas figured this probably was the human way of showing male friendship.

Aragorn brought the newcomers over to the king, and explained that they were here to aid him in the war; around thirty Dúnedain, and two elf brothers. Théoden seemed very pleased; if these knights were anything like Aragorn in battle they would be a great aid indeed! Halbarad and his Grey Company were more than welcome.

Curiously Legolas regarded the two elves. They were almost identical, with the common Noldorin complexion; dark hair and silver gray eyes under elegant eyebrows. Their features seemed familiar somehow, and when they introduced themselves he understood why: they were Elrond's twin sons, Elrohir and Elladan. Fancy that! They were shorter and looked less dangerous than he had imagined them from their reputation. More like scholars than grim orc slayers.

"Greetings, son of Thranduil," said one of them (Elladan? Legolas had already forgotten who was who).

"Greetings. I am honored to meet two such renowned warriors!" He bowed.

They had no more time for pleasantries, for the Nazgûl could return any moment and the valley was exposed.

While riding, the Dúnedain filled Aragorn in about their doings since he left the north, and then one of the twins (Elrohir?) turned to him with news from Imladris. "I bring word to you from my father. 'The days are short. If thou art in haste, remember the Paths of the Dead.'"

Aragorn blanched. "Great indeed will be my haste ere I take that road."

Legolas was surprised at the fear he felt emanating from his friend. Hasufel felt it too; the horse nervously tossed his head up and down with jingling reins.

The Paths of the Dead? What was that supposed to mean?

ʕll o _ o llʔ

Late at night they arrived at the Hornburg, and everyone hurried to prepare their beds and get a few hours of well-earned rest. Legolas was unusually tired, but despite that, sleep would not come to him. Turning this way and that, restless and tense, he envied Gimli and Merry who snored calmly on either side of him.

His thoughts kept returning to the battle. Was it only three nights ago? Coming back to Helm's Deep had made the memories gain strength, especially seeing the newly dug mound where all the dead Rohirrim were buried. Several of them formed in his mind; men who died right by him on the parapet. He had stepped over their corpses and walked on their blood.

The orcs he had stabbed to death haunted him too. The bow was a delusive weapon, because you were usually so far away from the target it was easy to forget they were people of sorts, though a twisted, evil kind, of course. But knifework... Well, it was hard to distance yourself when you had stuck your knife deep into someone's chest and felt their heartblood pour over your hands and met the terrified gaze in their eyes.

And then the Dunlendings had come. Killing orcs was one thing, humans quite another... But they were enemies too, and so he knifed one of them and watched him die. The man had looked much like other humans, with a big nose and a coarse, black beard, and yet Legolas would never forget his face.

Rolling over on his back in frustration, he tried to chase the distressing images away. He needed a distraction; someone to talk to, so he wouldn't have to think... But Gimli and Merry still slept soundly and Aragorn had disappeared somewhere. The few people who were up were basically strangers.

He needed Kat. She hadn't been gone a day, and already he missed her so much. A warm furball on the crook of his neck: someone who would listen patiently to his ramblings, and someone who never failed to cheer him up. But she was far away now and he might never see her again.

Suddenly something small landed on him and began to knead his chest with clawed paws while purring loudly.

Kat? His breath hitched in surprise. Had she come back? But Gandalf...

You've been gone forever and ever!

Legolas realized his mistake. Tommy! I mean... The Stillness Before Dawn. I am glad to see you, little one.

Got any food for me?

Nay... Does not Yngling feed you?

Well yes, but I wouldn't mind another meal. The tomcat lay down on Legolas' belly, still purring. I'll sleep for a bit now.

The heavy weight of the big cat was reassuring, and now it did not take long until Legolas fell asleep as well. Tommy was not Kat, but he would have to do for now.

A/N:

In the next chapter Legolas will get to know the twins better, and Aragorn will do something very risky...

Thanks to my faithful commenters! I couldn't write a thing without you.